


The Problem with Cuddling

by AStephens1971



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Male Homosexuality, One Shot, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Post Finale, cuddling issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStephens1971/pseuds/AStephens1971
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin's reaction to Brian's harsh words forces him to rethink his position...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem with Cuddling

“I don’t cuddle!”

The words flew out of my mouth harsher than I had intended. Justin just stood there, biting his lip, and stared after me as I stormed out the door. I was late for work as it was, and he had the nerve to ask me to stay in bed a little longer.

My foul mood lingered at work, as I lashed out at everyone around me. Incompetent artists and other inconveniences couldn’t have made me more irritated, and everyone stared at me as if I’d grown a third head.

It was only when I was finally able to leave work that I reached the Corvette, got in, buckled the seat belt, and—just sat there. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes, and I knew—I needed to make amends, especially with my Sunshine.

When I finally got home, I opened the door, careful not to drop my load. “Justin?” I called. No answer. I really began to worry. What—what if he’d tried something drastic? I hurried up the stairs, and when I approached the door, I knocked softly. Opening it, I was shocked. There he was, apparently still in bed, holding onto my pillow for dear life. Occasionally, he would inhale the scent lingering there, and in choked tones, whisper, “I don’t care if you don’t cuddle… I still love you.”

 Creeping closer, I could just see it—the tracks of tears that had rolled down his face. _Brian, you asshole_ , I thought, as tears rolled down my face as well, _look what you’ve done._

 “Sunshine?” It came out as a choked whisper as well. Indeed, where _was_ my Sunshine, whose beautiful smile usually greeted me?

I reached for him, but he just jerked away and turned to the other side. “Sunshine,” I repeated, reaching for him and managing to get him up to a sitting position, “want to talk?”

 “Why don’t you?” His sobs broke my heart. “What’s so terribly wrong with it?”

 “Why don’t I—?” Obviously, this morning had hit him harder than I’d realized. Taking him in my arms, I just held him—and cried with him. “I—I don’t cuddle,” I managed to choke out. Looking him in the eyes, I knew what I needed to do. “I don’t cuddle,” I repeated, kissing away his tears , “anybody—“

 Having regained some composure by this time, I held him—as close as I did at Babylon—and whispered in his ear:

 “—anybody but my Sunshine.”


End file.
